


streetlight

by eichart



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: I had feelings about Captain Jack Eichel, This is mostly a Character study, and a really weird long-form metaphor???, idk guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eichart/pseuds/eichart
Summary: This is a story about loving team and not wanting to be anywhere else.





	streetlight

_This is a story about loving team and not wanting to be anywhere else._

…

It’s late when they finally land, Jack easing Sam awake with a quick squeeze of their linked fingers because the jolt of wheels hitting runway hadn’t apparently been enough. Somewhere behind them, Casey swears under his breath, no doubt nudged a awake in a less gentle manner.

With ease that comes with motions long made familiar, they finally file off the chartered plane in a quiet, tired murmur – disappointed with their showing in Florida, but still proud of the accomplishments that’d come before that.

Jack watches them all carefully, a half-step slower to trail behind his team. Behind him, Casey, Rasmus, and Tage all follow in his wake like mismatched overgrown ducklings; ahead, Sam murmurs something to Jake, glances behind to meet Jack’s eyes with a tired smile.

There’s muffled giggling behind him, and he looks back just in time to watch Casey attempt to push Tage into a snowdrift in a clear attempt at retaliation. Instead, Tage collects Casey under one arm and Ras under the other as they stumble in the direction of Jack’s car and he feels a smile cross his lips as he unlocks it.

The lights on the way home are mostly green in the way they only are at odd hours; when the only people on the road at ones with flights before dawn and people with no place to be. The road ahead looks so clear, just green on green on green just as Jack feels this season is sometimes.

Until the red light.

The intersection sits quietly when they roll to a gentle stop, the car engine idling at the red light, the rumble a low comforting murmur below it all. And for a moment it’s like hitting pause, fingers tapping on the steering wheel still warming up from its stay in cold Buffalo weather.

Jack can feel more than anything how late it is, from the exhaustion lying along his muscles and the slight off-ness of the road stretching ahead into the darkness – not quite there and yet seemingly in hyper-detail at the same time.

Buffalo isn’t a city that goes to sleep early –Jack knows this as well as anyone—but at least, right here at this red light, it sits still, the city relaxing around them as if letting out a long exhale. And Jack feels like he can breathe too, a moment to let himself sink into the feeling of it all.

His gaze flickers up to the rearview mirror, soft street light filtering through tinted windows and across the faces of the three rookies slumped over each other in the backseat. Jack can’t help the smile from creeping across his face and warmth blooming in his chest in a burst of overwhelming fondness; somewhere an almost familiar surge of protectiveness raises its head.

He hadn’t realized it until Casey had walked into the locker room at the end of last season –too green and an easy smile on his face, bringing sunshine and hope into a too dark locker room. But he’d missed this: being a mentor to others, an example, something others wanted to be proud of; having something to care so fiercely for.

Well, maybe he’d always had that. Even now, Sam is at his side as he’s always been.

Jack’s always been a team player, has always tried to love whoever he plays for no matter the color of the jersey or the logo on the chest: the American flag in patriotic red, white, and blue, BU’s name arched in red in white, the country-less and weightless orange and black of Team North America. The blue and gold of the Sabres that some days is too prone to feeling like chains no matter who tries to unshackle them.

But this, this at his fingertips feels like it’s finally becoming something; gears finally clicking into perfect place, twenty-three guys playing like a team --- and loving like a family.

 _Team_ has always been about adding up to more than just the sum of the parts.

It doesn’t seem like so long ago that he rolled into Buffalo thinking he knew what to expect, what he was entitled to with a creaking team trying worst than its best. But he hadn’t had a fucking clue. Growth isn’t pretty and his had been especially ugly: broken sticks and pouting at the podium and a heart too free on his sleeve. It’s still there on his sleeve, but in a different way now –a compass to guide him rather than an obstacle to hide and overcome.

Buffalo has a lot of love to give after all –all you have to do is prove that you’re worthy enough to receive it. And that proof? It’s not so much in Cup and wins. Those certainly don’t mean nothing, but there’s got to be more underneath that. It’s just, it’s the little things: winding roots into the very foundation of the city, into the people and tying their beating hearts to yours. It’s donated suites and being happy to talk with them post-game and all the things that don’t cost a thing except time ( and bring so much more than money ever could ).

It’s simple: show that you care, that at the end of everything, you’re giving your best, and they will love you like one of their own –because you are.

Maybe, he hadn’t quite been mature enough to understand that when he’d first stepped ground here.

Maybe the only thing this team has done together the past few years was break those all-important bonds that’d been decades old.

It won’t be an easy fix, but this feels like something – just like getting the C had felt.

It hadn’t felt like a weight.

It’d felt like hope, like trust, like they were here for the long haul with the beating heart of belief that things that are broken can eventually heal.

It gets said so many times, in post-game interviews and teleconferences in the summer when the media is just trying desperately to find something they can bite onto: it doesn’t matter what letter you wear, the A, the C, no letter at all. One only had to look to Pommer or Hutts to know that’s true. It wasn’t until Jack wasn’t looking at the C that he’d gotten it in the end – and maybe that’s what real leadership is.

The faith the city has in him, the eyes on him, Ras and Casey and Tage, the teammates he’s known and the other he hadn’t before August, Sam who’s been at his side through it all – this doesn’t feel heavy, just another force he can use to propel them forward.

Loving them all –this team, Buffalo’s team, _his_ team – it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. And these days, he can’t imagine himself anywhere but here; looking into the rearview mirror at the future being carefully crafted with apt hands –a future he’s part of too.

In the peace of it all, Casey stirs in a quiet rustling of fabric, shifting away from Tage to settle his head on Ras’ shoulder. On Casey’s other side, Tage sways with the loss of contact until he rests against the window. They all look younger when they sleep, and even if the years between them aren’t all that many, Jack feels overprotective of them all –three NHL seasons feels like an eternity and none at all, but maybe the best change is the one you don’t feel happening. Jack’s glad they’ve got each other –they’ll need that support, that reminder that they’re not alone, though Jack hopes that none of them will have to go through the turmoil he and Sam had forded through together.

Next him, Sam stares off into the darkness in the passenger seat and Jack finds himself re-memorizing the planes of Sam’s face in the glow of the red light. After a moment, Sam turns his head to look almost inquisitively at him, and Jack reaches out without really thinking.

“What are you thinking about, Jack?” It’s a soft question, like Sam can feel this moment they’re all trapped in –the past stretching behind them, not quite ready to move on.

Jack gives a faint smile in response. “Just thinking about where we are.”

Sam hums in quiet agreement, his own gaze flickering to the rearview mirror to the rookies piled in the backseat, breaths rising and falling in blissful slumber. “Doesn’t feel so long ago that that was us, huh?”

Jack gives a small huff of a laugh in response, and Sam shifts in his seat.

Then, “They’d follow you anywhere, you know; we all would.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Jack says quietly. _I still can’t_. Sam doesn’t respond, but there’s a curve in his lips and a brief touch of fingers over Jack’s on his leg and maybe that’s response enough.

Above their heads, the light flickers to green and Jack hits the gas, leaving the moment behind.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed. as always, find me over @ [eichhart](http://eichhart.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
